


Cracked Marbles

by kingcael



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: Drabbles, Gen, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-07-26 00:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7553269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingcael/pseuds/kingcael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place where I can keep all the little stories I write randomly.<br/>Little drabbles that go with my art. Each chapter is labelled with the concerned pairing/characters.<br/>(In case a certain site goes up in flames.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. -Fayth- Auron/Braska, Yunalesca, Jecht

 

The stone was cold against his back,  
but it was part of him now,  
as was his sword.  
  
_“Anything for you, my lord. Anything.”_

* * *

“This is who you have chosen to be your fayth?”

“Yes…” Braska spoke, and his voice sounded far away. Blood was rushing in my ears and I knelt at his side, clutching to his robe. I wanted to throw up. This isn’t… 

Jecht was waiting outside the chamber, no doubt destroying as much of the hall as he could, and swearing down the ceiling. He’s been cursing himself for using the last of the Phoenix Down, putting me in this state. The poison… It feels like snakes coursing down my veins. The impulse to cut them out of my skin is hard to resist. 

She needed a sacrifice.

I’m going to die anyway, I thought, I ought to be useful. I held my sword in front of me like a crutch. A defense against this witch who stared at me so appraisingly. 

“He is beautiful,” Yunalesca said. “He reminds me of my Lord Zaon.” She looked at Braska, who placed his hand on my head. He was shaking.

“He is my trusted guardian.” Braska said, his voice strong despite his trembling.

“More than a guardian, I think.”

Braska froze, and finally looked down at me. I leaned into him, trying not to make a noise as the poison formed a thick knot in my chest.

He nodded, and knelt beside me, whispering a soft charm over me. “More than that.” I shuddered, and he held me tighter. I wanted to cry out; a few tears tumbled from my eyes.

“The bond between lovers is the most powerful. You could be the hope Spira needs.”

“I will defeat Sin,” Braska said, gently brushing the tears from my cheeks. I was afraid to speak. The sound would be pitiful. 

“Then we must prepare him for the Summoning.”

“…What does that entail?” Braska asked, steadying me against him.

“Let us see what shape his soul is.” Yunalesca waved her graceful arm in an almost dismissive way. I imagine that was once a beautiful movement, with purpose and compassion. Now it seemed tired.

My body became light, and I hovered in the air, my limbs loose and hanging like an old doll. My sword clanged at her feet, looking oddly distant. Yunalesca gestured a few times, tugging my body and pulling my armour off. The air was cold, and I shivered. 

“What are you doing?” Braska asked, his voice almost hostile.

“We must see what shape he will take.”

“My lord…” I gasped. My voice was tiny. “My lord, it’s alright.”

Yunalesca twirled her hand, and I rotated in midair, my head dropping to my chest. “I see. A shield. That other one seemed like the sword.” She slammed her palm forward sharply, and I hurtled backward, slamming into what felt like a stone wall. 

I heard Braska shout, and Yunalesca speak, but their words were lost. The stone was spreading over me, flowing over me, consuming me. I wanted to see him again. I just need to… see his face…

“Auron!” Braska’s voice, Braska’s hands. I wanted to touch him. To tell him. To see him. I opened my eyes, and he was there, tears running down his face. His cheeks were red, and his nose was running too. I’d never seen him cry like this.

“Braska…” My voice is a whisper. “My heart… Remember?”

“Yes,” he gasped, hiccupping back cries. He rested his forehead against my bare chest. “Yes, I remember.”

I told him before. He was the only one in my heart. A clumsy statement, but he smiled then. I doubt he’s smiling now.

“Heart…” Yunalesca said softly, stepping towards us. She had my sword, and nudged it toward Braska. “Prove your faith, prove it to Yevon.  Destroy his heart.”

He didn’t move. 

“Prove it, Summoner.” Yunalesca let go of the sword, and Braska caught it before it hit the ground. It looked heavy and unwieldy in his small clever hands. 

“I-I can’t possibly-”

“This is the sacrifice necessary to transform him into your fayth.”

“My lord… Please…” I could feel the poison and the stone dueling for possession on my body. I cried out, and Braska looked at me, his eyes full of fear.

Braska stepped back, holding my sword up high. “Auron, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.” He planted his feet firmly, and closed his eyes. Behind him, Yunalesca smiled. 

Smiled? Isn’t she supposed to be compassionate, an understanding guide? Didn’t she lose her Zaon this way? 

A flick of her wrist, and my sword tugged at Braska’s hands. My eyes went wide, and my sword slashed wildly down my right side. I screamed, and choked, the sound garbled and strange. Blind, deaf, pain.  _Pain._

 _“-dare you!”_ Braska’s voice, full of rage I’d never heard. “Do you enjoy this?!”

“He was too beautiful. My Lord Zaon would become envious,” she spoke plainly, unaffected.

I opened my left eye, and Braska was there, murmuring soft charms over me, touching my face and chest. “Auron… this never should have happened. I’m so sorry.” 

“Time is running out, Summoner. You must catch his soul in this stone before it ascends.” 

Braska placed his hand on my face, and looked me in the eye. “I love you, Auron.”

His kiss… The last thing I get to feel… 

I felt at peace.

My sword made a grating noise as it stabbed through the stone behind me.

I’mtrappedtrappedtrapped

Braskahelp

Iloveyou

 


	2. -Long Hair- Auron, Rikku, Yuna

 

“Yunie! Yunie!”

“Rikku, what’s wrong?” Yuna stood up, turning to Rikku, who was racing up to her, eyes alight and cheeks red.

“It’s Sir Auron!”

“What is it? Is he alright? He’s not hurt–”

“Nooo, no, listen!” Rikku grabbed Yuna’s wrist and pulled her back to the inn. She pointed at a semi-open window, and pointed inside. Curious, Yuna looked inside and gasped when she realized it was Sir Auron’s room. 

“Rikku, I can’t–” Yuna’s cheeks blazed, and she tried to leave.

“No! Look in there!” Rikku held Yuna’s shoulders, and she finally looked. 

Sir Auron was sitting on the bed, with his back to the window. From what Yuna could tell, he was removing his boots. He had already removed his high collar and looked to be preparing for bed.

“I don’t understand,” Yuna whispered.

“ _Look!”_  Rikku pointed at his head. “Sir Auron has  _long hair!”_

Yuna raised her eyebrows, and squinted. A long ponytail draped around Sir Auron’s shoulders. It must have been well hidden by his collar. “You’re right!”

“What of it?” Sir Auron asked suddenly. 

Both girls squeaked, and scrambled away from the window. Before they could compose themselves to run away, Sir Auron was at the window, looking down at them.

“Kyaaa!” Rikku flapped her hands. “We weren’t peeping! Just looking!”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” Sir Auron asked.

Yuna had gone silent, a beet-red blush covering her whole face. 

“What about my long hair?”

“Uh!” Rikku opened her mouth, at a loss for words.

“Can we play with it?” Yuna blurted out.

To Sir Auron’s credit, his mouth only hung open for a single second. He folded his arms, and tilted his head. “Why?”

Yuna pressed her lips together, and then looked up, smiling softly. “I remember playing with my father’s hair when I was young. It was a lot of fun.”

Sir Auron’s expression shifted instantly; Yuna thought she caught a glimpse of him as a younger man. He smiled, nodded, and turned back to the bed. “If you must. I plan to read a book for the next hour. As long as it doesn’t disturb me… feel free.”

Rikku cackled, and within minutes, they were set up behind Sir Auron as he read at the foot of the bed. Clips and ribbons littered his bedspread, and soon his hair as well.

Yuna couldn’t recall the last time she had laughed that hard.

_I want my journey to be filled with laughter._

 

_ _


	3. -Kiss- Tidus/Yuna, Auron

>   
> **[dreams-that-have-faded](http://dreams-that-have-faded.tumblr.com/) said:**  Tidus/Yuna "Can we just pretend I didn't say that?"
> 
>  

“Can we just pretend I didn’t say that?” Yuna said, from behind her hand. Her face was already glowing bright pink, made worse by the grapefruit sunset dipping low on the horizon. 

Tidus was frozen with surprise, his mouth half-agape in a stunned smile. 

Yuna dithered, and laughed softly, hiding her face in her hands. “Oh, dear…”

Regaining his senses, Tidus laughed loudly, causing the others to look around as they walked across the sloping Calm Lands. The rest of the group was just out of earshot, but Tidus lowered his voice anyway, nudging Yuna with his shoulder.

“Now, when you say it was ‘the best kiss you’ve ever had’, does this mean you have a lot of experience?” Tidus asked playfully, both amused and mollified. 

Yuna was shaking her head, and giggling, blushing fiercely. “No! I mean… One kiss before you but that’s…” She caught Tidus’ interested expression, and laughed some more. “It’s not the same at all.”

“Okay, you really have to tell me now. Who was the lucky one?”

Yuna just giggled again. “Hmm! Guess!”

“Do I get a hint?” Tidus laced his fingers behind his head as he strolled along, putting on a face of mock thought.  

Yuna touched her chin with a single finger, then pointed at the group ahead of them. “It was one of them!”

Tidus barked out a laugh, and then squinted at the group ahead of them. He stroked his chin, and perused the backs of the other guardians. “Hmm, let’s see… I guess… Wakka?”

Yuna shook her head. “No, not Wakka. He always tried to get kisses from Lulu.”

Tidus nodded. “Okay… then…” He laughed. “Kimahri, then!”

Yuna laughed too. “Not Kimahri, but he should have a kiss for being such a kind guardian. I wonder what he would do.”

“Oh man!” Tidus said, scratching his head. “Lulu!”

Yuna shook her head. “Unless forehead kisses count?”

“Nope!”

“Then, not Lulu, either.”

Tidus squinted at the rest of the group. “It’s gotta be Rikku then. Like a kid’s game?”

One look at Yuna’s apologetic smile stopped Tidus in his tracks. “What!? Not Auron! That old grouch?”

Yuna stopped too, giggling behind her hand. “Yes, Sir Auron.”

Tidus reeled, trying to think of a time on the pilgrimage that Yuna and Auron could have slipped away for kissing. The thought of it stunned him and confusion nearly knocked him backwards. “When?!”

“Ohh, probably… About eleven years ago.”

Tidus relaxed in immediate relief, and rolled his eyes with a smile. “Oh, you should have said theat sooner. I was gonna go fight him for being a creep!”

Yuna smiled. “It was before he and my father left on their pilgrimage. He was living with us at the time, and he was asleep.” Yuna looked out onto the Calm Lands as she spoke, smiling gently. “My father always read me tales of brave priestesses and legends about different lands. The night before, he told me a tale of a sleeping warrior, that only a loving kiss could awaken. Sir Auron was sound asleep the next morning, and he was supposed to take me into town, but he wouldn’t wake up. He was snoring.”

Tidus grinned, nodding. “Oh, yeah, I remember he used to snore loud enough to shake our whole house.”

“So I…” Yuna placed her hand on her cheek, shaking her head slightly. “I kissed him! Right on the lips, like in the story.”

“And then what?”

“Well, he did wake up! And he was so embarrassed. I’ve never seen him blush so much. My father thought it was very funny, and at the time, I remember not knowing what I had done. I really only meant to wake him up like the warrior in the story.”

Tidus edged closer to Yuna, and grinned mischievously. “So if I sleep in, you’ll wake me up the same way, right?”

Yuna gasped, and then nodded, with a broad grin. “I will!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seymour doesn't count cause Yuna didn't kiss him back.


	4. -Legendary Summoner- Auron, Lulu, Braska, Yuna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Legendary [Summoner]
> 
> AU in which Auron never returned to Zanarkand, and went to Besaid with Yuna where he learned to be a Summoner so she wouldn’t. 

The first Sending.

I wasn’t sure what to expect. Within the Temples, Sendings were only taught in theory, unless there was another Summoner that could teach you properly. I had heard that Summoners in the past taught themselves by defeating fiends, and Sending their pyreflies. 

That is what I did. There were next to no fiends in the vicinity of the village because their pyreflies were Sent, and so they couldn’t reappear. It was safe. Yuna smiled. 

My heart ached when I looked at her, and I trained harder, sometimes into the night, and on until she woke up and guided me to bed. She would stay with me as I slept, and calmed me when my dreams became violent. 

I love her. 

My daughter. 

She couldn’t come with us. As much as we could use another who could use White Magic, I couldn’t allow her to accompany us. Lulu and Wakka are my Guardians. Both of them, still with bruises on their hearts from the loss of Chappu. 

They watched me with calm confidence. It was heartening to see their trust. The Kilika sunset sizzled on the horizon, and I stepped onto the water’s surface. It was different, wearing shoes, but the urgency of the Sending couldn’t be ignored. 

The movements were the same. I knew them too well. Years in the Temples, training in the art of the sword, and altering those movements to be a Summoner instead of a Guardian.

How I longed to be a Guardian again. The weight of Yevon on a Summoner’s mind is too much. I wondered if Braska welcomed the end, to be free of this burden. 

Thoughts of Braska turned the pyreflies around me violet, and a pain pierced my heart like a spear. Braska’s bracelet jingled on my wrist, a gift from Yuna. She insisted, but I felt guilt at stealing her remembrance. She told me to bring it back. Even knowing the fate of a Summoner, more than most, she trusted I would come back.

I would. I know the truth. The Final Summoning… a lie. I would end Sin. I would not be caught by surprise. I would find a way to destroy these false traditions. Somewhere, Valefor expressed agreement, and I felt a lift in my steps. 

I spun, and the water swirled below my feet, lifting me high, as I had seen Braska ascend on the Moonflow once. I had stood alongside Jecht, and we watched. 

That was the most beautiful moment of my life. Standing with my brother, watching Braska Send. 

Pyreflies rushed through me, over my skin, crackling like tiny embers, each one filled with sorrow, and regret, and rage. Those feelings weren’t unfamiliar to me. I could have easily succumbed to them where I knelt in my friends’ blood in the Calm Lands. I could have returned to the witch, Yunalesca, and murdered her for her treachery. 

Revenge favours the patient man. I will return to her. In due time.

For Braska. For Jecht. 

I had to free Jecht. 

I ignored the tears burning hot in my eyes, and spun again, pointing my sword at the sunset. The water calmed, and lowered me gently down. 

If I had allowed it, I’m sure I could have been sick right there on the beach, but Lulu and Wakka had already met me, and Wakka took my sword with reverence. I admired his respect. He was a steadfast guardian. 

The villagers clamoured around us, and bowed, whispering prayers and congratulations, and well-wishes on our pilgrimage. Lulu nodded graciously, and accepted their offerings. Summoners were vital to Spira, so much so that these villagers with half their population Sent tonight still felt the need to offer things to us. They dispersed, and I answered their prayers as best I could. 

I swayed, and Lulu smoothly took my arm, keeping me upright. Her expression didn’t change, save for softening slightly as she met my gaze. 

“Did I… Did I do alright?” I asked, my voice low. I was tired, and leaned on her more heavily than I would have liked. She bore my weight with no complaint, and smiled softly.

“You did very well,” Lulu said. “They’ve reached the Farplane by now, but…” Lulu trailed off, and gently ran her thumb over my cheek. “No tears next time, hmm?”

 


	5. -Dad- Tidus and Auron

I rummaged through the top of Tidus’ closet, absolutely certain there were no monsters up there. I checked the houseboat every day after all. Even small fiends could be a threat to a defenseless child. Even after his eighth birthday, he was still frightened of shadows. I couldn’t blame him.

“Are you sure, Auron?” Tidus’ voice was small, and quavery. He had only demanded I come in here and check because he had had a nightmare. Fiends were different in Zanarkand; they were used to keep children from wandering off or getting into trouble. They weren’t thought of as tangible things, just fictional things to make children behave.

“I am certain,” I said, turning around with my hands on my hips.

“Okay…” Tidus still looked wary, and pointed at the underside of his bed.

I sighed, and creaked down to my hands and knees, and peered underneath. It was dark, and I had to squint to see. Two cookie packages he thought I didn’t know about, a deflated Blitzball, and his old shoes.

“There are no signs of fiends under here,” I said, sitting back on my heels.

Tidus breathed a sigh of relief, and shimmied down into his bed. “Thank you…” he said, covering his mouth with the tops of his blankets.

I nodded, and got to my feet, with the intention of getting ready for bed myself.

“Ah, wait!” Tidus exclaimed, snagging the waistband of my loose pants. The elastic snapped, and I winced. “Oh, sorry! I mean- I want- would you stay?”

I thought a moment, thinking longingly of the hot bath awaiting me before I went to sleep. “Of course,” I said, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Wanna lay down? If you’re here, the monsters will definitely not come. You’re wayyy scarier. ”

I adjusted, feeling a bit obtrusive as I took up most of his bed. I was also aware that I smelled bad, and the bath sounded even more inviting.

“You smell.”

I rolled my eyes, and moved to get up.

“No!” Tidus grabbed my arm, and yanked me back down. “I don’t mind! You smell like- uh! I dunno! It’s fine, though.”

I sighed, and returned to my cramped reclined position.

“Kind like my- uh, a dad, I guess,” he grumbled.

I said nothing, but could only assume that was because I had been using all Jecht’s soaps and toiletries.

“Are you anyone’s dad, Auron?”

I turned my head to look at him, pressing my scarred eye into the pillow. “No.”

“You’re old enough though, right?”

“I suppose,” I said. I had only thought of being a father once, after news of the proposal had arrived. It had terrified me then. I couldn’t be responsible for a life that way. Protecting someone, defending the weak… that I could do. But raising a child, ensuring their safety when their minds are so irrational, the thought was frightening. Braska used to say that it wasn’t such a leap. He had complete confidence when I would look after Yuna.

“I think you’d be a cool dad,” Tidus said, smiling brightly. “Your kids would be weird though.”

“Why is that?”

“Cause you’re weird!”

I smiled exasperatedly, and looked up at the ceiling. The planks were the same as in my bedroom, but Tidus had hung up paper airplanes and cranes with tacks.

“Will you sing?” Tidus asked, and I felt my cheeks get warm.

“I could try… but only until you’re asleep.”

“Okay.”

I sang, slowly, the Hymn of the Stars, and Tidus settled in, with his forehead pressed against my arm.

“Hey Auron…” Tidus said sleepily, after I finished. I thought he was asleep. “I think I love you.”

I was taken aback, and my mouth hung open stupidly. “What?”

“You’re better than any dad,” he mumbled. “So I love you, okay?”

He was quiet, and I assumed he had gone to sleep. I was glad he had, since I wasn’t sure how to respond.

I smiled.


	6. -Aeons of Wing and Flame- Braska, Auron, Jecht, Valefor, Ifrit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Braska's Staff in Record Keeper has the Soul Break 'Aeons of Wing and Flame', which is a double summon of Valefor and Ifrit. So... here's this.

 

 

Of course the journey through the Calm Lands was anything but calm. After the first afternoon, they were nearly out of water, and, despite Braska’s best efforts with the map, seemed to be much farther north than planned. And still no sign of the Travel Agency.

Both Jecht and Auron looked uncomfortable and tired.

“Aagh, Braska, let’s just make camp here. We can find the damn place in the morning. I’m hungry.” Jecht rubbed his stomach, pouting.

“We would be considerably more comfortable with walls protecting us,” Auron said, sounding irritable, but probably half-heartedly agreeing with Jecht. “My Lord, we have approximately an hour left of daylight today.”

Braska sighed heavily, consulting the map with a frown. “We seemed to have taken a westerly road, when we ought to have gone east. I feel we could make it to the Agency, but it would be dark before we arrived.”

There was a silence, interrupted, as usual, by Jecht.

“Sooooo, are we gonna go, or what? I can tighten my belt if we’re gonna, but-”

“Perhaps a rest here wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Braska conceded, pointing to a small crater in the earth. “We could have some reasonable cover there.”

Jecht perked up, and hurried over to the craggy hole, easily hopping down. “Yup! Looks like someone had a fire here before too! There’s already a pit dug!”

Auron jumped down as well, and carefully set his pack down before holding his hands out for Braska to take.

“Be careful, my Lord. There are loose rocks.” Auron planted his feet, and guided Braska down, taking care to keep him steady.

“Look at you, huh!” Jecht laughed, unpacking his cooking tools. “Like Brasky can’t handle a few loose rocks by now. Bet his feet are as ugly as yours now, Aur.”

Auron rolled his eyes, but his grumpy expression lightened when he saw Jecht had already started preparing dinner. Braska smiled, and gave Auron’s hands a squeeze before joining Jecht at the fireside.

It wasn’t long before they had eaten- Jecht’s specialty, a spicy soup with the peppers Auron didn’t like. The two of them were already bickering good-naturedly about it, and Braska smiled.

There was an odd rumbling to the north, and Braska looked up in confusion, his hand straying to his staff.

Auron noticed as well, and went completely still, tilting his head to listen.

“Something large, from the northwest,” Auron said, grabbing his sword and positioning himself in front of Braska. “Get ready, Jecht!”

Jecht nodded, and scooped up his Blitzball, running to join the others.

A loud crunch was the first warning, and then a disgusting toxic gas erupted from _something_ above the small crater they had their camp in.

A Malboro perched on the top of the crater, sickly green oozing from its toothy mouth. It was larger than any Braska had ever seen. There had been rumours that the monk Omega had been able to tame Malboros, and that they had grown to monstrous sizes when they didn’t tear each other apart as adolescents.

The gas they exuded would send even the most practiced warrior into confusion, and then the wretched creature would eat them whole.

Braska shuddered, trying not to breathe the deadly gas. Auron seemed to take the brunt of it where he happened to be standing, and tipped backwards, knocking Braska down completely.

The confusion from the gas seemed to affect Jecht the most, and he was awkwardly trying to shake it off, and somehow managed to kick his Blitzball into his own face. The Malboro was lurching towards him, caustic saliva running down its body.

Auron was heavy, and Braska couldn’t move. After a moment of struggling, Braska managed to roll Auron off of him, and cast a hasty Protect spell on Jecht as the Malboro struck out with its barbed vines.

He saw a red blur flash past him; Auron must have recovered. Breathing a sigh of relief, Braska hurried over to Jecht, working up an Esuna to relieve him of the confusion.

It took a moment for Jecht to come to his senses, but nodded to Braska as soon as the spell had worked through him. He then delivered a well-aimed shot directly into one of the Malboro’s eyes.

“It’s blinded for a moment!” Braska called, taking a few steps back. “Let’s regroup!”

Jecht nodded, and sidestepped in front of Braska, leaping to catch the rebounding Blitzball. Auron was still attacking, hacking and slashing at the Malboro with a recklessness Braska had never seen.

“Auron!” Braska shouted. “Over here!”

At Braska’s voice, Auron looked around and his eyes were noticeably red and unfocused, even from such a distance. A Malboro vine caught him across the shoulder, and he snarled, cutting the vine and his own arm with uncharacteristic clumsiness. Bright red spattered the Malboro’s vines. Auron was too close to the creature, one well-aimed strike could kill him. And still, he kept slashing at it, severing vines, and kicking at the pieces.

Braska swallowed, and recalled reading about that particular symptom of Malboro poison. Berserk, uncontrollable fury. Not something easily taken care of when the one afflicted was as powerful as Auron. He would have to get close enough to use Esuna, and even then, he’d be putting himself in harm’s way.

It was a sickening feeling, not being able to trust that Auron wouldn’t hurt him.

“What the hell’s the matter with him?” Jecht asked, wiping sweat off his upper lip. “Hey, tough guy! Settle down!”

“He’s been poisoned. His mind, it’s not right,” Braska said. “I can’t get close enough to-“

The Malboro shrieked, apparently one of Auron’s strikes had been particularly effective. A boiling spray of what Braska could only guess was its stomach acid exploded from its toothy mouth and very thoroughly drenched the three of them.

Braska fell to his knees, hastily wiping the viscous fluid from his face. Already, the slime had raised stinging welts, the texture of a cats tongue. The smell was rancid, like fruit gone bad and left to rot in a greenhouse. Jecht seemed to take it even worse, probably due to how much bare skin he had showing. His panicked shouts quickened Braska’s heartbeat, and he gripped Jecht’s upper arm, whispering Cura. The fluid didn’t seem to stop Auron’s barrage of attacks, even though his movements were becoming increasingly clumsier.

Braska recalled a sun-dappled afternoon under the flowering trees in the spring, watching Auron perform the meditative disciplines of the monks. The control and power that Auron kept was impressive, as if he had the force of an aeon restrained in his body.

Now it seemed that force had broken out, and its ferocity was terrifying.

“Auron!” Braska called again, his fingernails digging into Jecht’s arm. “Come back!”

“Nah! He’s out of it!” Jecht growled, and shook out of Braska’s grip. “Come on, Braska! We gotta slow it down so I can go knock his ass out and drag him over here!”

Sweat loosened Braska’s grip on his staff, but he nodded, focusing on the thrashing Malboro. Fire was easy to find in his heart, and two fireballs exploded near the Malboro’s mouth, sizzling the slimy vines. They had made a fire not long ago, with wet wood. This was nearly the same.

Jecht volleyed the Blitzball at the Malboro with a loud grunt, audibly popping some of the gargantuan eyes. “There, that’ll keep it from hitting us for a sec-“

After a single blink, and a sickly wet noise, Jecht was flattened, and the Malboro’s teeth were glistening with greenish ichor.

Auron stumbled back, and coughed violently. From what Braska would tell, he had just thrown up, but still was relentless with his raging attacks. His stance was so unusual, but he did seem to be regaining some semblance of his technique. The Malboro surged forward, reaching out with charred vines towards Braska.

With a roar, Auron swept his sword in what Braska recognised as a delaying strike, meant more to incapacitate than to kill. Unusual, but-

The Malboro flailed against the flat of Auron’s blade, and then lurched forward unnaturally, and caught his left arm and leg in its teeth. It tossed him up, like a child with a rag doll, and gnashed him between its teeth with a crunch that made Braska’s heart shake.

Auron made a sound Braska never wanted to hear, though when it stopped abruptly, he wished it back.

“Auron!” Braska cried, his voice cracking.

Blood dripped from the Malboro’s mouth, stringing red along with gobs of green poison.

Red. Rubies inset in Bevelle temple. Those spheres in the Kilika trial that left painful burns on all of their fingers. Blood on Auron’s skin.

It was a colour Braska was beginning to detest.

Red. Valefor’s feathers. The heart and soul of Ifrit, and the gems that adorned his physical form. Jecht’s scarf, and the warm blush of his cheeks when he laughed. Auron’s treasured red coat.

Perhaps not.

He could see the red fabric, fluttering between the Malboro’s teeth.

 _My friends…_ Braska held his staff high, his eyes darting from Jecht’s prone form, to Auron’s body, bouncing on the Malboro’s tongue.

Red, and red.

 _“We see the red, Papa._ ” Valefor’s voice, so like Yuna’s, rang in his mind like a little bell.

“ _We will destroy everything except the red,”_ Ifrit said, his voice rasping and beastly.

“Yes,” Braska said softly, his movements gentle as he considered Valefor’s voice, and then more aggressive as Ifrit surfaced. “Both of you! You know my heart, and my intentions.” Braska faltered a moment -the sight of Auron’s face between the Malboro’s teeth- then spun on the spot, his feet lifting slightly as Ifrit’s magic circle seared the grass. The heat of Ifrit’s flames erupted beneath him, cooled instantly by Valefor’s wings behind him.

The power in his blood felt white-hot, and he felt Ifrit’s fire on his tongue as he breathed, and Valefor’s wings unfolding from his back, stretching his bones.

His mind felt over-encumbered, with both of their voices ringing so strong and clear at once. Their motives were identical- to ensure the safety of his friends.

Braska felt his own muscles tense as Ifrit struck at the Malboro, knocking it back enough that Valefor’s well-aimed bolts of energy took the top of its head clean off. Braska mimicked the movements, in a warrior’s dance.

For a moment, Auron’s body hung in midair as the Malboro fell away in a smoking heap. Valefor reacted immediately, twisting in the air and caught him gracefully. The bend of Auron’s bare forearm was strange, but it soon fell away as Valefor carried him away from the blazing Malboro. Auron’s weight was nothing to Valefor, but the pressure of it slowed Braska’s movements, and he halted finally, his staff clanging to the ground.

A momentary sigh of relief parted Braska’s lips, and he turned his attention to Jecht, who was already held in Ifrit’s less-than-gentle grasp.

“To me… to me…” Braska murmured, carefully lowering to his knees, his hands shaking uncontrollably. Ifrit arrived first, and set Jecht down with obvious gentleness that contrasted with the claws that cradled him.

Immediately, Braska had healing magic at his fingertips, and it nearly leapt out of his hands to mend Jecht’s wounds. Briefly, he wondered if the Malboro was completely dead, and Ifrit turned at once to thoroughly destroy it.

It was difficult to swallow, and breathing was more so as Braska worked in a panic. Eventually, the harsh red patches eased into a dull pink, and Jecht’s expression looked considerably less pained, though he didn’t wake up. His heartbeat was strong and steady, though, some comfort to Braska at least.

Braska raised his eyes to the sky, and Valefor was descending, a mournful cry low in her throat.

“Here…” Braska said, in his head or aloud, he couldn’t be sure. “To me, _so kenm_.”

“ _I am afraid for you, Papa._ ”

“Hush, _so kenm_ , hush, it will be alright. It must be alright.” Braska spoke quietly and quickly, waving Valefor closer. She bowed her head, and her worry and fear crashed through Braska’s mind. A sharp pain panged just above his right eye, as suddenly as if he had been struck there.

When he saw Auron, the reason for her fear became apparent.

Red. Red. Too much red. It traced the contours of Auron’s face in thin lines, shadowing his face unnaturally.

“ _Papa, he is nearly spent.”_ Valefor’s voice was tearful, emotional in Braska’s numb. She must be carrying the burden of his sorrow, so he might think more clearly.

“Is there a spark?” Braska asked, his voice light as he dug in his deepest pocket for a Phoenix Down. He remembered this feeling, after he received the news about the ship. There was no hope then. They had even recovered her body then. Now, here was Auron’s body, and Braska couldn’t help but wonder if she looked like this. He didn’t even get to Send her, as he felt was his right, his duty--

“ _Yes, a spark!”_ Ifrit roared, pounding his fists into the pulpy mess that was the Malboro. “ _A spark is all that one needs!”_

“ _Yes, Papa, he doesn’t want to go,”_ Valefor said, her voice small.

Braska took Auron’s hand, pressing the Phoenix Down between their palms. With a grimace, Braska noted at least three of Auron’s fingers were broken and his arm had at least two breaks. Braska bit his tongue, willing the most potent magic he possessed to _heal_.

He wondered if Valefor might help, and as soon as the notion passed, he felt another source of white magic. It was a wilder sort of magic, and it pulled from Valefor’s feathers in bright red threads.

“Blood…” Braska closed his eyes. “Thank you, _so kenm._ ”

Valefor didn’t reply, but he could hear her singing.

“ _Braska!_ ” Ifrit threw the scraps of the Malboro behind him, and charged over. “ _Another calls for me.”_

“Go, _so ymmo_ ,” Braska said, feeling Auron’s fingers mend and slide back into place under his own with a crunch. “Thank you- for your help.”

Ifrit bowed, and gently nudged Braska’s shoulder with his own. “ _It was fun.”_

Braska laughed weakly, and felt his strength return as Ifrit’s presence lessened.

“ _Papa, I will stay.”_

“Thank you, _so kenm,”_ Braska leaned against Valefor, still holding tightly to Auron’s hand, pushing as much clean fresh magic through him as he could.

Auron made a noise, and Braska stood on tiptoe, leaning over his face. As gently as he could, Braska wiped the ichor and blood from Auron’s eyes with his sleeve. Auron grimaced, and jerked his head away, swatting ineffectually at Braska’s hand and then opened his eyes. He blinked several times, his right eye nearly swollen shut. The bright amber of his left eye was sharp and clear, despite how the rest of him looked.

“Mulr…” Auron mumbled, blood bubbles popping at his lips. “Brask, Jec-“ Auron sat up, and coughed, pain striking the worry from his face. Braska guided him back down, whispering quickly.

“Hush, Auron. It’s alright. You’re alright. You’re alive-“ Relief washed over Braska, and he smiled, unsure if he wanted to laugh or cry. “We’re all alive.” He could sense a smile from Valefor, and the stress fell from his shoulders. “ _So kenm,_ thank you. I will… ah, take him now.”

Valefor adjusted, and lowered her wing, and Auron began to slide off her back, slowly easing into Braska’s arms. He seemed to be trying to stand, but was having obvious difficulty.

“M’sorry, mlor…” Auron slurred, his head lolling on Braska’s shoulder. His arms hung lifelessly at his side, and it was no small wonder that he was standing at all. “I… I don’t-“

“It’s alright, can you walk a few steps? I’ll help you,” Braska said, lifting Auron’s arm over his shoulder and pulling him close by the waist. Their tent was completely crushed, though the bedding had been miraculously spared from any of the Malboro’s gastric juices.

“Aah, there!” Braska laid Auron down, propping a pillow underneath his head, and cleared the hair from his face. “Are you in any pain?”

Auron made an unclear movement, somewhere between a shrug and a nod. Obviously he was, but didn’t want to burden Braska any more.

“Cura,” Braska said, placing his hands on both Auron and Jecht’s shoulders.

With a sigh, Braska finally sat between Jecht and Auron, and blinked slowly at the setting sun. Everything was dipped in gold, and Braska felt a moment of peace.

A double summon, a Summoner guarding his Guardians. Truly, they were an unconventional group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Braska might be the first Summoner to call his aeons by Al Bhed names. :D


	7. -Watercolour- Auron/Braska

In the moment between sleep and wakefulness, the pyreflies would refuse to buzz, and his body would be stiff, creaking, and numb. Blissfully numb, no suggestion of his own humanity, barely more than a ghost that wouldn’t yield to the touch of a hand. He would walk, the taps of his feet the only indicator he existed, the returning pressure of the floor was absent.

At those moments, he recalled the feeling of bare knuckles against his jaw, in violence and tenderness, and the bend of his voice at the same moment.

Threads of his coat, unraveling and blowing away on a Farplane wind, tangled in Braska’s clever hands, as if he could weave him back together on that distant plain. More than once he had felt Braska’s hands collect him, mending him with soft words and the salves that only he knew the recipe for. Braska’s voice, like the strum of a guitar, rich and resonant, and out of place, since something so amused and serene couldn’t possibly have suffered so. Knowing Braska’s history made his own seem so insignificant, a footnote at the end of an epic. A criminal bowing to the divine.

And yet, Braska would touch him. Gentle touches- to announce his presence, to exchange a pleasantry as the day began, and eventually, small whispers from lips reddened from dehydration pressed against the back of his neck to frantically offer comfort in the wake of a dark thought.

He had never been more aware of his body than in those moments. His skin, his hair, his teeth and eyes all seemed to become known, and Braska would tell him he was beautiful. Beautiful in the eyes of one much greater than he. A king finding an rock to be a gem.

Once, he had dared to touch him, gently as a moth landing on the finest powder, and thought he would leave fingerprints.

A single note, a soft hum, and Braska captured his frightened hands. Kisses were pressed to bruised knuckles, stealing the colour from them with the breathy shiver of white magic.

The feeling of his hands would return first, tingling with a remembered perception that was as welcome as it was unpleasant, and he would curl his hands in and out to intensify the sensation.

The threads that had unravelled would bind themselves around him tightly, covering him as much as they _were_ him. What a strange thing, to be steel and cotton, ceramic and leather. Boots and heart, bone and blade and a mad scramble of those pyreflies to make sense of it. Braska always did, and it had become his way to live by Braska’s example.


	8. -Strange Dream- Auron, Jecht

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a strange dream, so I wrote this. D:

The smell.

The sounds.

Auron’s heart banged against his ribs like a butterfly in a jar.

The Sinspawn shrieked, their hellish chorus of voices like laughter. Exhaustion was setting in, and nausea floated in his blood, slowing his movements and making them imprecise.

Jecht had been fighting alongside him, and Braska was at his back, but now he was alone. Alone against an army of the creatures, and still there was Sin. Sin’s shadow blocked out the sun, and several fires had ignited the dry brush of the Calm Lands, filling the air with ash. It settled on his clothes and skin, dusting his hair and ageing him as it filled in the lines on his face.

There was a shout, and a squelching sound that made Auron think vividly of the time Braska had stepped off the path into a mud bog. The shout was the same.

“My Lord!” Auron whirled around, and several Sinspawn took the opportunity to latch onto his forearm, needle teeth holding fast. Gasping, Auron batted them off, their teeth splintering off in his skin. The shout again, but this time, more garbled.

The ground was slippery with blood and venom, and his steps slid as he ran towards the shout. He dashed around a cleft in the Calm Lands, towards the cliff that overlooked the sea. “My Lord! Where are-“

Sin itself loomed before him, multiple eyes focused on him all at once. A flutter of colourful red and blue fabric shone in its jaws, and the butterfly in Auron’s chest died. He wasn’t aware that he fell to his knees.

Sin bit down again and then opened his mouth. It yawned like a new cavern opening up before him. Something tumbled heavily out of it, landing directly in front of Auron. The smell was heavy, like molten gold.

The colours of Braska’s robes should never be so red. Braska’s hands should never look so tense. His body should never bend that way.

His face…

Gone. _Gone_. Just red.

Just red and bones, and a lock of beautiful brown hair.

His eyes. That blue, clearer than the sky or the sea…

Gone.

Skull. Teeth.

Both present, but not in the way they should be.

Teeth. Red. A strip of untouched pale perfect skin.

Breath came too quickly, and Auron reached forward, his hand trembling uncontrollably. An illusion. A trick of the venom in his veins. His hand would pass through that fabric, and touch the craggy earth below.

Soft. Wet with blood, but soft. Broken bones underneath. Real.

 _Teeth_. No more blue eyes.

It’s real. A scream, of fear, of revulsion, of _failure_ rattled in his throat--

 

o-o-o-o-o-o               

 

Auron woke with a cry still on his lips, and hovered in a moment of blissful confusion before the dream rushed back to him. Nausea frothed in his mouth, and he lurched up, half-walking, half-crawling out of the entrance to the tent. There was still moderate firelight, and he stumbled to the edge of the light, collapsed to his hands and knees and violently threw up.

Images of the dream fought for his attention, overlapping the hazy darkness of the Calm Lands. He could still smell it. The feeling of Braska’s broken bones under his fingertips. Panic thundered through him, and he gasped through a mouthful of spit. Another shuddering heave, and his body slowed, leaving him knelt in the humid cold. A gust of wind raked across his bare chest, colder for the sweat on his skin.

“Hey…” Jecht’s voice, oddly gentle, from behind him. “You okay?”

Auron trembled, afraid to speak for fear of the sound of his voice.

“C’mon, buddy. You with me?” Jecht was closer now, but still didn’t touch Auron. He was aware what a strange place the mind could be after a nightmare, and didn’t want to risk an attack. Auron was high-strung at the best of times. Now, he was shaking, his eyes wide, clutching his own arms, all decorum lost. His hair was wild, inky strands tangled and hanging in front of his face. A low wail broke from Auron’s lips, and he squeezed his eyes shut, bowing his head.

“Aur… Hey, can you hear me?” Jecht said, tentatively reaching out to touch Auron’s bare shoulder. Predictably, Auron gasped, and struck out, his clumsy punch caught easily by Jecht. He held both of Auron’s wrists, finally catching his frantic gaze. “It’s okay, buddy. Just relax, okay?”

For a moment, Auron’s face showed an open vulnerability that Jecht had never seen, and it reminded him of Tidus. Like he was about to cry. The notion of that stung, and Jecht felt tears spring to his own eyes.

Auron was already working on rebuilding his usual façade, taking several deep breaths and hiding his face. “I’m- fine- just- need a moment,” he stammered, between gasps.

“Come on, Aur. You’re not fine. You’re freezin’, for one thing,” Jecht said, hoping he sounded comforting. “Let’s get over to the fire, huh?”

After a moment, Auron nodded, and creakily got to his feet, guided by Jecht. The warmth of the fire was welcome, but he couldn’t dispel the cold from his bones. Jecht was absent a moment, then a blanket dropped around Auron’s shoulders, and his jug was pushed into his hands. His Mama’s beads brushed against his hand, and he felt his heartbeat settle.

“I- I saw…” Auron kept his eyes on the embers as he pulled the cork, interrupting himself with a long draw from the jug.

“Nightmare, huh?”

“Sin…” Auron said, the sting of the liquor harsh in his voice. “The last battle… I saw…” _Teeth_. Auron shuddered, and pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead. “Braska… he didn’t… I didn’t-“

“Just a nightmare, kiddo,” Jecht said, keeping his eyes resolutely in the flames.

“His face…” Auron mumbled, before a stuttering gasp shook him, and tears tumbled down his face. He hastily took another swig from his jug, and then another, and another.

“Go easy, there,” Jecht said, though without conviction.

Auron took another drink, then corked it firmly and set it aside. “…I’m afraid,” he said eventually. “I’m afraid I won’t be there in the end. That he will have come all this way, endured all that he has, only to fail. Only for me to fail him. For him to die before he defeats Sin…” Auron shook his head, holding the blanket shut and bowing his head.

There was a long silence, punctuated by the snapping pops of the fire.

Auron spoke again, in a small voice. “I don’t want him to die.”

Jecht remained silent, there were no words that could bring Auron comfort. Not here. Not now. He studied Auron’s hunched-over form, how the fire danced in his amber eyes, too shiny from tears. He suddenly looked young. And he _was_ , Jecht reflected. But everyone in Spira seemed to act older than they were. Act like an adult sooner because Sin might get you any time. Elders were a rarity. No time for anyone to act like a kid. Auron always seemed older, with his rigidity and discipline. It had been two months into the pilgrimage before Jecht learned Auron was the youngest of the group.

“He’s gonna though…” Jecht murmured, regretting speaking at once.

After a moment, Auron pulled his knees up to his chest, and hid his face. Jecht might have let him be if he didn’t see his shoulders begin to shake. That’s how Tidus used to cry. Hidden. Quiet.

Alone.

“Dammit,” Jecht growled under his breath, getting up. He’d left Tidus alone enough, left him to cry enough, _made_ him cry enough. He couldn’t very well sit here and do the same to Auron. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I’m an idiot. C’mere…” Jecht sat next to Auron, and tugged him roughly into his arms. He fully expected for Auron to push him away. He didn’t, but he didn’t wail and cling to him either.

 It was strange, holding Auron close to him, rubbing his back and shoulders. Sometimes he would comfort his wife through a nightmare, or even Tidus occasionally, but they were always small in his embrace. Auron seemed too strong to need that sort of care, but even warriors needed a hug sometimes, Jecht reasoned.

Eventually, Auron’s trembling slowed, and he lifted his head from Jecht’s chest. He pulled back, resting his hands on Jecht’s forearms, gripping them gently.

“Thank you, Jecht,” Auron said, his eyes blazing. Then, to Jecht’s surprise, Auron embraced him tightly. “I am… grateful that you are here.”

Jecht smiled, patting Auron on the back a few times. “Me too, kiddo.”

After a moment, Auron shuffled back to the tent, presumably exhausted.

Jecht watched him go, and then turned his attention back to Auron’s jug of liquor, musing for moment that earlier in the pilgrimage, he would already have been sneaking a drink.

“Guess I’ve grown up a bit, huh.”


	9. -Catch the Moon- Auron, Braska, Yuna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing in present tense is hard... D: This is just a little idea that popped into my head while I looked at moonbeams.

“-and, did you know, my bumblebee, that Yuna means ‘moon’ in some areas of Spira?” Braska’s smile is audible, and Yuna’s even more so.

“Really, Byby? Like Sysy’s name too?”

“Yes, that’s why we liked it so much.” A sadness creeps into Braska’s voice, and Auron looks up from where he is clumsily mending a glove, knowing full-well that it would be an easier task in his room. Kinoc was away on an escort trip, and the solitude of their shared room was claustrophobic. Usually, Auron would welcome the solitude, but Braska seemed to sense his unease, and invited him to his tiny room for evening meal.

Afterwards, they had ventured out to the small courtyard near the back of the temple. It was their secret place, where they could spend time with no interruptions. Yuna had discovered it one day, while playing with her few classmates.

In the bright moonlight, the courtyard is a poor man’s paradise, chipped paint and overgrown plants glowing with jewel tones. It is about as far away from the temple proper as it could be, and the air is cleaner here, fresher.

“I wish I could catch the moon, and look at it closer,” Yuna says, reaching up into the sky, undoubtedly curving her hands around the moon.

“Some things will always stay out of our reach, my dear,” Braska says, kneeling behind her and cradling his hands around hers.

Auron stares longer than he thought polite, and returns his attention to his mending, feeling abhorrently out of place as they undoubtedly consider that another should be in his place. That thought occurs to him frequently, that perhaps they enjoyed his company simply because they were used to having a third. A terrible thought follows it; that if _she_ was still alive, they wouldn’t be here at all. It sends a confusing pang through his heart, and a blush makes his ears burn. If they were not here… he would be alone, and wouldn’t even know the difference.

Braska always seems to be able to sense when something is storming in Auron’s heart, and turns to him with his usual soft smile.

“Auron? Are you well?”

“Ah, yes, my Lord.”

“You really don’t need to call me that, Auron…” Braska says, joining Auron and leaving Yuna to her uncatchable moon. “Not until I am something worthy of such a title.”

“You are, my Lord,” Auron says, resolutely keeping his eyes on his mending. “You are more worthy than most.”

At that, Braska laughs, and tilts his head, considering Auron with a wry smile. “That’s one man’s opinion, I suppose…”

Auron frowns, and meets Braska’s gaze. “My Lord, the other summoners… they haven’t given as much, or suffered as you have. Some might have lost their faith if they had to live as you have.” The meager living conditions that the temple inflicted upon Braska had always been a source of aggravation for Auron, who had seen first-hand that usual standards of a summoner’s quarters. Calling Braska’s tiny room with Yuna a hovel was unkind, but not far from the truth. At least they had the ability to cheer the place with colour and warmth, and Auron felt more at home there than anywhere.

“Quality of faith can’t really be measured by circumstances,” Braska says, idly turning a small silver button over and over in his hands. It flashes in the moonlight, distracting. “I suppose as a summoner, perhaps I was always destined to have some modicum of worth, despite how I’ve presented myself in the past.” Braska sighs, and Auron can almost hear the slurs and shouts of ‘heretic’ rattling in his mind. “But certainly not more than anyone else who prays like me.”

“I… disagree,” Auron says, before pressing his lips together and bowing his head. Braska makes a small noise of interest, and Auron continues. “That is, my Lord, your faith is worth more because of your hardships. Weaker men might turn away from Yevon, shifting blame, or claiming abandonment from Him. To be scorned, and called faithless, and returning with a full heart… To me, that is worth.”

Auron finally looks up, and Braska’s eyes are like a clear blue sky in the moonlit night. “Thank you, Auron,” he says, speaking slowly as he considers Auron’s words.

“Of course, my Lord,” Auron says, wondering if the rightful respect Braska deserved was as unobtainable as the moon.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

The air in Macalania is always comforting, and Auron has no trouble staying awake to keep watch while the rest of the monks settle in to rest. There had been reports of a strange new fiend in this area, something that sounded strangely familiar to him. An adaptable fiend.

His superiors found it to be an ideal training mission for his new clutch of subordinates, to test both their mettle and his leadership skills.

For now, the forest is quiet, and he listens to the sounds of the musicians far in the distance. The twinkling of the harps and lights kept his interest, but not his focus.

There is something else, a strange rush of water. There is usually no flowing water here, and he quickly wakes the others, whispering their names softly as he shakes their shoulders. They are all to their feet in a moment, ready despite the sleep in their eyes.

The sounds of running water only grew, coming directly from the north.

“Eyes ahead, Poole,” Auron whispers quietly, his voice similar to the rushing water as he weaves between the monks to take up point. “Deacon, watch our backs. Mons to the side, be prepared to use your magic. Teppa, you’re fine. Good.”

They breathe as a unit, remembering this formation from training, though this terrain was largely unknown to most of them. From what Auron knew, three of the four monks in this unit hailed from the Calm Lands, and were unused to Macalania’s chill. Certainly a good opportunity to introduce them to the harshness of the rest of the world.

The rushing sound of water ceases suddenly, and the thick smell of ozone makes the air almost unbearably humid. Auron keeps his eyes on the trees, where the sound had been coming from until moments ago. There is only one place the mysterious sound could have gone, and Auron carefully glances up, noticing a blurry shimmer to the sky.

“Break,” Auron breathes out, and the others venture away from him, with cautious practiced steps.

A single drop of water streaks down his forehead and cheek, followed by a torrential downpour. Before the water can take his legs, he jumps back, and guards with the flat of his blade.

The creature is amorphous, hovering in the air and undulating in eerie waves. The sparkling lights of the trees are shattered inside it, and it is almost impossible to make out where it begins and ends.

The rest of the monks are holding themselves well, prepared to fight, but are looking to Auron for guidance. Leadership does not honestly come naturally to him, being someone who fights by instinct instead of orders. The flow of battle is easy enough for him to read, even against this creature. It still would not do to become complacent; thoughts of Braska and Yuna awaiting his return in Bevelle remove any recklessness he might have, and he gestures to the others to begin their assault.

He cannot keep the memory of the night in the moonlight from his mind as the thin crescent moon reflects off the creature’s shimmering surface.

“Catch the moon…” Auron says quietly, his mind at peace despite the shouting and incessant elemental spells the creature was hurling at them.

The reflection still showed the moon as the creature dissolved away.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

“A surprise?” Braska lips twitch, unsure if he should laugh. “That is… welcome, though unlike you, Auron.”

“My Lord,” Auron says, inclining his head.

“You really needn’t have gone out of your way, though.”

“It was no trouble.”

It really wasn’t, though Auron hoped his plan would work the way he wanted.

Yuna dashes up, and slides her hand into Auron’s, swinging a bit as they walk to the courtyard. “Can I have a hint?”

Auron muses a moment, tapping his chin. “A gift? Hmm, no. Something you want though.”

“What?” Yuna grins, and giggles, prompting Braska to breathe out a soft laugh. “That’s a terrible hint!”

Auron smiles softly. “I don’t want to spoil it, I suppose.”

Yuna relents, and happily skips alongside him, her hand still holding tight to his. It is a strange feeling, her unabashed affection, since he was more accustomed to children being outrightly afraid of him. Acting warmly never did come naturally to him; he felt a sort of embarrassment about showing any emotion. His mama always claimed he covered his heart in stone.

Braska seems pleased as well, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on Auron’s curved profile. Auron resolutely avoids looking at Braska, but can feel a blush warming his cheeks.

The courtyard is nearly glowing with moonbeams, and the flowers and grasses are particularly fragrant. The basin of water Auron had set up in the centre was undisturbed, and he crosses to stand in front of it, blocking the bright moonbeam. He motions to the other two, and the join him, both looking curious and eager.

“Fish?” Yuna asks, peering into the basin.

“No,” Auron says. “Put your hands under the water, like this.” He holds his hands in front of him, forming a makeshift bowl.

Yuna complies happily, and then waits for further instruction, smiling. After the water had stilled over her hands, Auron steps to the side, and a crisp sharp reflection of the moon hovers on the surface of the water, nestled in Yuna’s hands.

She made no sound of surprise, but the expression on her face was enough. Braska looks dumbfounded for a moment, and then his face breaks into one of the sincerest grins Auron has ever seen.

“Auron…” Braska begins to say, before throwing his arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. “It’s wonderful.”

“Byby, come try!” Yuna says, her head leaned far forward to study the reflection. “It’s so bright!”

Braska joins her, cradling his hands around hers as they had done before. He seems truly happy, Auron notes, nodding with satisfaction.

If nothing else, Braska had this moment, and Auron was only too happy to give it to him.


End file.
